Hellion
by InARedDressAndAlone
Summary: Ripley is a leader of Division One, the special forces of Dauntless, assigned to train new Division soldiers. Bold and fearless, she isn't easily intimidated. What will happen when she has to work closely with Eric?
1. Let's Start a Riot

A/N- In my world, Dauntless has another compound on the other side of their territory. It is generally referred to as The Rock. My OC is from this other compound, and she was initiated there. She is also a member of Division One, Dauntless' special forces. I honestly don't know much about this fandom, as I haven't read the books but I've been so fascinated by Eric since I watched the movie. So forgive my creative license in creating my own version of this world…it's fiction, I can do that.

* * *

Eric stood sweating in the hot late spring sunlight outside the main entrance to the compound. Glancing next to him at Max, he tried to conceal his impatience from the older man.

"She should be here by now." he almost growled.

The leader spared him a patient look.

"I'm sure she will be here soon." As soon as the sentence left his lips, a distant rumbling reached their ears. The sound grew in intensity as a distant speck on the horizon sped toward them.

Minutes later, a sleek motorcycle approached the gates. The guards stepped forward to halt the vehicle. Brief words were exchanged before the men stepped back and waved the rider through. The deep rumble of the machine's engine echoed from the tall concrete walls then suddenly died away as the rider cut the power.

The two men watched the small figure engage the kickstand and slide off the gleaming red machine. The figure removed the black helmet, freeing a wild mass of black hair. The woman ran her fingers through the dark locks, smoothing it into a semblance of order as she walked toward them. Max stepped forward, extending his hand in greeting.

"Ripley. Welcome to Dauntless city." The woman stopped in front of him, giving a closed-lip smile as she grabbed his forearm in the traditional greeting.

"This is Eric, my second in command." he continued, indicating the younger man next to him. The woman turned to him, her full lips still curved into a smile under her dark sunglasses.

"Eric Coulter" he said, extending his hand. Her hand, encased in black fingerless gloves, barely wrapped around his forearm, but there was strength in those small hands. The cool touch of her fingers lingered after she withdrew her hand. Her face tilted up toward him.

"Ripley Black." she said, her voice low and smooth as she stepped back.

Max made a gesture indicating that they should enter the compound.

"Come on, let us show you around before you get settled. We'll send someone to bring your bags after our meeting."

Walking into the compound, Eric glanced over as she removed her sunglasses, revealing large, piercing dark eyes. He fell into step with the leader and the newcomer, studying her.

She was short, the top of her head only reaching the middle of his chest. Despite her small stature he could tell there was definite muscles under her clothes and she moved smoothly, easily keeping up with the taller men. Now that he was closer, he could see the sides of her head were closely shaven, one side tattooed with the faction's flames and the rest of her hair falling straight and a deep blue-black only broken by vivid red streaks.

The highlights in her hair drew attention to high cheekbones and full lips. Her skin was honey-gold, darker than most of the people here. She wore a black tee shirt topped with a uniform jacket with the crimson divisional stripes on the sleeves. Armored leggings hugged muscular thighs. On her right side, a gun gleamed dully in a thigh holster and as she moved, subtle metallic glints hinted at the presence of several knives.

* * *

As Max pointed out various locations as they walked, he noticed she was paying keen attention to everything, those dark eyes rapidly taking in everything.

Even though most of my attention was on Max and his narrative, because I would eventually need to know where this stuff was located, there was a part that was very, very interested in his second in command. From the looks of him, this assignment might not be as boring as I anticipated.

I don't normally go for blondes, but he could change my mind.

Forcibly, I turn my attention fully back to Max. Business first…and hopefully pleasure later I sternly remind myself as we enter the control room. I'm introduced to a few people, last being a pretty younger man.

"Four, this is Ripley. She'll be responsible for training the candidates for Division after initiation. I'm sure she'll value you input."

I smile and nod, both his touch and his smile warm as he greets me. We continue, Four falling into step with Max, Eric, and I as we approach what I assume are the offices.

Max's is large and impressively cluttered, and I find myself seated between the two younger men. Discussing the sheer logistics of the task assigned to me takes quite a bit of time. Finally tired with the boring details, I pin the older man across from me with a hard look.

"If you want Division soldiers, you have to let me train them my way. I won't compromise on that." I warn him.

"Understood. Gentlemen, would you excuse us? I'd like a few private words with Ripley."

After the door closes, he smiles fondly at me.

"The last time I saw you, you were seventeen. Your father must be very proud, Ripley. You've became an exemplary soldier. I've kept up with your career, you know. Being the youngest member to become Commander of a Division cell is quite an accomplishment. As long as you don't start dropping your people into the Chasm, I don't foresee a problem with your methods."

I can already feel the headache forming.

"Good. But I'd prefer we left my family out of this. I earned my place, regardless of who my father is."

"Of course. You're dismissed for now. Four will show you to your room. Please send Eric back in when you leave."

I stand and salute before turning to leave. His chuckle stops me with my hand on the doorknob.

"Oh, and try not to set too many fires, Let 'er Rip. No riots, please."

I can't help rolling my eyes as I leave the room, the nickname from my younger years ringing tauntingly in my ears.

"It wasn't a fucking riot." I growl as the door closes, drawing curious stares from the two men.


	2. A Lesser Woman Would Blush

Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent, all original characters and plot are mine.

* * *

My first day as a respectable Division Commander lasted approximately one hour and forty-seven minutes.

That was just long enough to wake, shower, and make it to breakfast.

I had just poured a cup of coffee when the sound of someone bellowing my name made me jerk around so hard my neck popped.

"Ooof." I managed to gasp as a weight hits me from the side, my coffee arcing out of its cup to splash the bystanders. I'm taken completely off my feet and the shock of my ass meeting the concrete reverberates through my body, jarring my spine unpleasantly.

Hands grip my shirt and I stiffen as roughly chapped lips are crushed to mine. My eyes pop open and all I can see is spiky, white-blonde hair. Unable to breathe, I shove at the person's shoulders to dislodge them. Relaxing, I lay back on the concrete.

"Hi, Icy." I greet the other woman, 'I missed you too." Still straddling my waist, she throws her head back and cackles maniacally. She finally climbs off me and stands before offering me her hand.

I stand, straightening my jacket as I realize quite a sizable portion of the dining hall is staring at us. A lesser woman would blush at the attention, I just glare right back. My eyes sweep the crowd and I groan internally as I spot the tall blonde man a few paces behind us. I can't read the expression on his face, but I'm pretty sure I splashed his boots.

I know he can see the defiance when I meet those pale eyes and something oh so subtly sharpens in their depths when our eyes meet.

Still grinning, Icy mockingly salutes the crowd before draping her arm around my shoulders and towing me towards the food, breaking my eye contact with Eric.

After breakfast, I retreat to the cubbyhole given to me as an office with the files of the incoming Division trainees. There are stacks and stacks of files.

I'm still neck deep in paperwork when someone knocks on my open door. Grateful, I glance at the clock and am shocked to see over five hours have passed.

"Come in," I say, pressing the heel of my hand to my twitching left eye, happy for the distraction. The pretty young man standing at my door looks familiar.

"Hello, Four. You were the trainer for these initiate classes, correct?" I ask, motioning him to the single other chair in the room.

"Yes," he nods.

"These files don't tell me a whole lot. Are there any of these people who stand out to you?"

He looks at me strangely, almost guardedly.

"Stand out how?" he asks cautiously.

"Exceptional will. Exceptional skills. Exceptional viciousness. People who won't give up, even if they should."

He looks confused. Had to have been a transfer, another Dauntless-born would know what I mean. I frown.

"Have you been through Division training?" I ask. I don't think he has, there is something much too soft about him.

"No," he replies, his deep brown eyes meeting my own.

I lean back in my chair to stretch my neck and smile at him.

"Tell me what you know about these people."

After an utterly unenlightening couple of hours with Four, I'm pacing my apartment, restless and frustrated with my lack of progress on getting to now my candidates. Knocking at the door interrupts my musings. I open it to find Icy on the other side, a grin on her face and her hands full of two bottles of amber liquid and a foil-wrapped package

"Rough day?" she asks as I step back to allow her to enter.

"Bureaucratic bullshit." I answer as I take one of the bottles from here and pop the top. Rummaging in the cabinets, I manage to locate two glasses. Pouring two stiff drinks, I slide one over to her.

"See, should've stayed a simple grunt like me. Fuck that noise." she snorts, downing a hefty swig of the high-proof rum.

Shaking my head, I study my friend. She's a few inches taller than me, with broad muscular shoulders to go with the white blonde hair and deep blue eyes. The girl's eyebrows are even blonde, she's so fair. Currently, she's eyeing me with a sly look on her sharp featured face.

"I brought food and drink, so we're gonna eat, drink, and be fucking merry tonight."

I can't help but grin back as I raise my glass in salute to her.

Much later, it's dark and we are on a rooftop and profoundly drunk. The late spring night is cool and feels delicious on my hot skin.

We're still drinking in companionable silence when someone kicks the door to the rooftop open. Two brawny male forms tumble out less than gracefully.

I manage to pull myself up to sit propped against the wall.

Eric and Four resolve out of the shadows. A radio crackles.

"Yeah, we got 'em on the south rooftop," Four says into his com.

Despite catching me in a less than ideal situation for the second time in one day, Eric is not glaring at me. He's glaring at Four.

"Trouble." I say, elbowing Icy. She pulls herself up, leaning heavily on me to stare blearily at the two men facing off in front of us.

"What part of 'keep them out of trouble,' was difficult, number boy?" Eric growls at the slightly smaller man from less than a foot away. I have to admit they make a pretty pair, like fire and ice.

Four scoffs.

"I was busy freeing the guard they hogtied on their way up here," he spits right back.

They are inches away from each other, eyes flashing, chests heaving, and fists clenched.

"Think they're gonna fight?" Icy asks in a whisper, eyeing the two men with much more interest. I shrug. She gives me one of her signature I'm-about-to-cause-trouble looks and I mentally cringe.

"Dude, I will arm wrestle you for the winner," she announces in a much louder voice. I can't help rolling my eyes at her. In almost comically synchronized slow motion, both of the men turn to us, shock and disbelief mixing on their faces.

"You don't like guys, remember?" I reply. If possible, her grin gets even more lecherous.

"Might be worth another try. I'll take the broody one, he looks like a bottom."

The look on Four's face is too much. I can't contain my laughter anymore, which sets Icy off as well. They just stare at us, apparently dumbfounded.

* * *

A/N I really hope this came out as funny for you all to read as it was in my head. Don't worry, I promise there will be more Eric/Ripley interaction in the next chapter


	3. The Promise and The Threat

Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent, all original plot and characters belong to me.

* * *

I watch Eric, who seems to be struggling a bit with his self control. He literally takes a step back and he looks like he's counting to ten in his head. At least. He finally runs a big hand over his slicked back hair before turning back to Four.

"You take Icy. Ripley is on my way."

Four nods, pink to the tips of his ears and lips tightly compressed as he pulls the blonde to her feet. They wobble to the stairs, and I swear I see him jump. I think she grabbed his ass. I shake my head, suppressing a chuckle.

"I really tried housebreaking her at division. It didn't take." I say, turning my attention back to the glowering blonde man as I reach for the pack of cigarettes laying on the gravel. Lighting one, I take a deep drag and hum my appreciation. Looking back at the blond man, I waggle the bottle still in my possession at him.

"Drink? Smoke? Join me?" I offer. Wordlessly, he stalks over and takes the bottle from me, the brush of his fingers sending electricity jolting through me. He takes a long swallow of the rum, making the tattoos on his throat move in interesting ways.

The bottle still grasped loosely in his big, long fingered hands, he takes a long look at me, those pale eyes searching. Finally, he takes another deep drink before making an annoyed noise.

"I see now that all the rumors about you all are true. Word has it Division soldiers are the reason people started calling us hellions. I understand why now. I never thought two intoxicated women could be so much trouble." he says, exasperation still coloring that deep voice. He takes another slug of rum.

I can't help but laugh at that.

"We're soldiers. We fight, we drink, and we fuck. It's kinda what we do. Especially for fun," I reply.

"How in the hell did you two manage to slip past the cameras, disable a guard, and make it all the way up here in this state?" he asks. I shrug.

"I'm not as drunk as Icy, and the training is automatic. It wasn't hard." I respond. He shakes his head before taking another deep drink.

"Careful. That stuff packs a punch." I advise. He levels an arrogant look at me, raising that pierced eyebrow.

"I think I can handle it," he retorts, taking another swig. The level of the liquid left in the bottle is noticeably lower than it was when I handed him the bottle. Finally he extends his free hand to me.

"Come on. I have to get you home safely," he says.

I reach out and take his hand, and the heat of his touch and the slight abrasion of his calloused skin sends another shock of heat through me. He pulls me to my feet harder than necessary and I land squarely plastered to his broad chest, our bodies pressed together almost intimately. I suck in a shocked breath at the contact, the heat turning to a burn in my veins as I jerk my head back to look up at him.

The moment draws out as I stare up into those light eyes. I now notice they're a changeable gray and I see his pupils dilate, betraying his reaction. They stare down at me and I think I see a flash of heat behind all that studied coldness. My body is embarrassingly happy to be pressed against him like this and his scent hits me hard, something dark, rich and so utterly male it makes my body clench. It's only a brief moment before he grasps my upper arms and takes a step back.

"Can you walk?" he asks, a very slight edge of roughness in his voice.

It's my turn to give him an annoyed look.

"Of course I can walk." I say, hoping it's true as I turn to head towards the stairs. I manage just fine until we hit the stairs. About the third step, I misjudge the distance and slip. Those strong, hot hands immediately wrap around my waist, stopping my fall.

"Do I need to carry you?" he asks, his voice back to that bored flatness. I turn to pin him with a glare.

"Hell no, you aren't carrying me through the halls of Dauntless. I'll manage," I reply hotly.

He mutters something that sounds like 'stubborn woman' under his breath as he joins me on the tricky stair, wrapping one thick arm firmly around my waist, those calloused fingers just brushing my hip, sending another bolt of lust through me.

We manage much better once we're free of the stairs, but he leaves his arm where it is as we enter the leadership living quarters. Reaching what I think is my door I start patting myself down, trying to remember where I put my key card. Finding it in my back pocket, I pull it out as I turn to open the door. This is the point where the alcohol decides to kick me in the equilibrium as I misjudge how close he's standing and trip over one of his big boots. I slide sideways, the door breaking my fall and for the second time in less than twenty minutes I find myself nearly pressed up against him.

Caught between him and the door, I look up at him again, fully expecting to see annoyance written on that handsome face but it's not. I can't read his expression as he stares down at me again. I let my eyes sweep downward, lingering on his lips, the full bottom one tempting me dangerously. He moves slightly, placing both hands on either side of my head and leaning forward slightly. Not pressing against me, that big body is just barely brushing me, drawing my eyes back to his.

I know I can't disguise the desire in mine this time. He leans down slowly, fully aware that I'm watching him. Our eyes are locked until his head dips enough to break the eye contact and my heart rate spikes out of pure anticipation. He almost nuzzles into my neck, and the feathering of his breath on my skin makes me shiver involuntarily. His lips are almost, so damn close, to brushing my ear when he speaks.

"If," he says, emphasizing the word roughly, "And that is if I ever touch you, you'll be totally sober…so you'll remember every. Single. Thing. I do to you." he says in a forceful whisper.

Before I can fully process his words he pulls away, leaving me staring and burning with want. He neatly plucks the card from my fingers and swipes it, reaching around me to open the door. The hand returns to my hip as he gently but insistently urges me inside.

His lips curl into a smirk at my obvious discomfort as he steps back into the hallway. I can't even come up with a clever rejoinder with my lust and alcohol fogged brain.

"Goodnight, Ripley," he says, closing the door.

I stare at the closed door for a few moments, aching with longing.

It's going to be a long fucking night.

* * *

 **A/N:** So Ripley's already driving Eric to drink. Sorry for the short chapter, but ending it here makes more sense to the story...hope you enjoy anyway. Please review and let me know what you think!


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